


Bad Moon Rising

by Detroitbydark



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Magic, Multi, Reincarnation, Vampire AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-01-26 19:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12564584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detroitbydark/pseuds/Detroitbydark
Summary: Evie's delicate world is shattered by the coming moon and dreams that haunt her sleeping hours.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aossi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aossi/gifts).



The heels of her boots clicked against the cobbled street, echoing into the darkening night. The feeling of eyes on her continued though when she spun to look no one was there.She was alone. There was no sounds from the homes around her; no sound of gulls in the harbor; no sounds of the night bugs that buzzed and bothered. Not one light shone from the silent homes as an unnatural fog began to seep onto the sidewalks from doors and windows all around her, obscuring her view of everything not in her direct line of sight. Her heart raced as her feet fought to keep pace.

 

_Evie_

 

At first she wasn’t sure she’d heard anything but it was repeated a minute later. Her name, whispered reverently as if by the night breeze itself. Except there was no breeze this night. The air was heavy and stagnant. Her eyes scanned around her. Still alone. Her name came again. it had no direction and every direction, it was neither behind her nor in front of her. It was all around her.

 

_Evie, come to us_

 

From the darkness the sound of another's steps on the cobbles rang out. A feeling of quiet terror washed over her as she held up her long skirts and quickened her pace.The faster she moved the faster the steps came after her. She could see the locked gate leading to her courtyard and apartments ahead if she only could reach it.

Her heart raced.

Her lungs burned.

So close.

A few more steps to go but the sound of footsteps was right behind her. She felt the breath of  her attacker hot on her neck. She fumbled with her ring of keys clutched tightly in her hand. She slammed into the gate desperate to shove the proper key in the lock but it was too late. An icy hand clutched her shoulder slinging her around. Crystalline eyes stared into hers and she screamed….

 

Evie woke with a start her heart galloping and tears rolling down her cheeks. Her breath caught in her throat before small hiccuping sobs escaped. Her eys darted around her room. It was only a dream, only _the_ dream. It was the third time this week alone she’d had it. She hastily scribbled everything she could remember down in the journal she’d taken to keeping at her bedside. The dreams were so vivid as they happened but once she woke they faded so quickly that after a handful of minutes she could scarcely remember any details. Her mentor had instructed her to keep a dream log close at hand after she’d told her of the troubles she’d been having. Her dear Tia Dalma had taken her dreams very seriously. She was revered in New Orleans tight knit community of magic and voodoo practitioners. She’d taken a young impressionable Evie under her wing many years ago and the young woman respected no one else the way she did the great Voodoo Queen.  When she said something ought to be done Evie didn’t question it.

 

She’d only been using the journal for a fortnight and already it was filled with sketches and snippets of remembered dreams. Two distinct sets of eyes made their appearance again and again.  Soft, warm hazel and icy, cool blue stared back at her from page after page, familiar and foreign all at the same time.  

 

The dreams themselves ranged from erotic to nightmarish. Sometimes she was hunted, stalked in the muggy New Orleans streets running from her life from an unknown assailant. In others she was pressed between two warm writhing bodies, a slave to sensation and lust There seemed to be no rhyme or reason as to why one came and not the other, or at least none she’d been able to discern as of yet. She slipped a silk house coat over her sleeping gown and wandered through her apartments. In the kitchen she set about making a cup of tea. With the kettle set onto warm she found herself a tin of stashed ginger snaps she’d been gifted in payment for a reading of the cards to a local baker. While she possessed no great ability to see into the future she did possess the ability to look at people and guess as to what the future held. She’d tried the bakers wares before and saying she’d have great success coming her way was no great lie. Every practitioner had their speciality and, while evies was not foreseeing the future, she was quite handy with potions and herbs. Tia Dalma had praised her ability to understand the way the plants spoke to her, to use them to their potential.

 

As she nibbled at the cookie she rooted around in her cupboard for a new tea she’d been working on, a mixture of valerian and mullein, she called her sleepy time tea. The valerian helped relax the body and mind while the mullein was said to ward off nightmares. She’d been working on it since the dream diary had been suggested to her. It was getting better but not nearly as effective yet as she’d like.

 

She glanced out her window at the clear October sky. The stars shown brightly. No sign of dawn's first rays of light shown, she’d have time for maybe a few more hours of sleep if she were to drift off soon. She glanced at herself in a tired silver mirror hung haphazardly on the wall. Dark circles shadowed her eyes and her skin shone so pale it rivaled the moon in it’s glow. She sighed, running her fingers through her thick, dark locks. Exhaustion did not become her.

 

As she gathered her jar of honey and her favorite chipped tea cup she prayed to the Gods they saw fit to let her get one decent night sleep.

 

* * *

 

She scurried along the streets dodging past carriages and carts alike.The lateness of the evening did little to ease the congestion of traffic.  She’d overslept, the entire day to be exact, either due to exhaustion or to a tea far too rich of valerian, she wasn’t sure. The sun had already slipped into the sea and the moon, nearly full, was making it’s full ascent into the night sky.  Her skirts rustled as she hurried along. She was going to be scrubbing floors by hand for a week at this rate. Tia Dalma did not take kindly to tardiness. It was honestly one of the only things that she did care about. Evie heard the bells of St. Louis Cathedral strike nine times. Always the one to be early, she harbored a deep seeded anxiety about being late. Not only was she late, she was obscenely late nearly two hours to be exact.

 As she rounded the corner on to Dauphine Street she was met with a solid, immovable mass. She bounced back, nearly falling to the ground before a strong set hands took hold of her waist. She felt the fingers flex as she steadied herself with the assistance. Her cheeks burned when she saw the large mitts were still in place. She cleared her throat as she quickly put a pace between them before wiping at her dress and smoothing wrinkles nervously.

“I’m so sorry, Sir…” she muttered in apology, trailing off as she looked up and caught sight of the face before her. He grinned widely though it faltered slightly when his eyes locked on her. He was young, not to much older than she by the looks of him. He had glorious dirty blonde locks pulled back in a stylish tail at the back of his neck. They reminded her faintly of tarnished brass. He was quite handsome and quite silent.  He stared at her curiously, head cocking to the side like a confused spaniel. Evie was hit with a pang of familiarity. “Pardon me, sir” she said again his look remained assessing. “For my clumsiness? Monsieur?” She asked, wonder if perhaps he was of French decent. New Orleans seemed to have just as many French speakers as it did English. He continued his silent assessment, making no sign that he'd heard her.

She brushed her thick braid off her neck nervously and didn’t miss the way the stranger stiffened, his eyes narrowing at her. He reached out with a tentative hand, his mouth opened as if to speak but nothing came out. She moved away from him again. His silence and curious behavior becoming more disconcerting with each passing moment. She offered a dainty, but hurried, curtsy before skirting around him. She continued down the gas lit street at a brisk pace, refusing to look back. She only slowed as she approached her Mistress’ home. Had she not been in such a hurry maybe she would have felt his eyes following her movements as she went, watching her disappear into the Voodoo Queen’s palace.

* * *

 

Tia Dalma sat waiting in the small conservatory that jutted out behind her home. Evie could see her tending her plants as she quietly opened the door and slipped inside.

“You're late.” she intoned, her warmly accented voice was curious. “Is quite a bit late.” Evie moved to her side.

“I’m sorry Tia.” she said with averted eyes. The dark-skinned woman set down the small knife she’d been pruning with and placed a finger gently under the child's chin. She tipped her face up, tilting it right and left. She took in the worn, tired expression. She note the dark circles that stood out in stark contrast against her pallid flesh. Evie’s eyes focused on everything but the woman in front of her.

“You been having the dreams still.” It wasn’t a question but Evie nodded quietly. “They’re more frequent, no?” She watched as the girl nodded again. She hummed quietly releasing her chin and moving away, picking up her pruning knife and moving back to her herbs. She could feel the innocent eyes of her charge on her. She smiled looking down at her plants. She’d foreseen what was coming but the poor girl had no clue. She would soon though. It had already been set in motion.

“Go scrub the floors in the parlor than come back to me” she demanded gently, “We’ll start your lessons than”

“Yes, Tia.” she heard the girl say quietly before she fled the small greenhouse. Tia Dalma laughed quietly as she cut leaves from the Holy Basil. It had been a long time since she’d seen a love story play out.

* * *

 

“I saw her!” Harry leaned against the hearth watching the fire crackle within. He glanced up as his mate entered the room, his cheeks flushed and his eyes alight with wonder.

“What are ye on about Gil?”

The blonde in questions advanced on him grabbing him by the arms and spinning him around. Harry laughed before pulling away from the foolishness.

“I’ve found her Harry.” Gil stilled as his lover's eyes narrowed. Harry stalked toward him, his hands reaching to cup his jaw. His eyes were intense, blue and piercing.

“Speak clearly, love.” Harry demanded “Who have ye found?”

Gil sighed, leaning into his touch. His eyes locked with Harry’s as his smile slowly grew again, “I found our Princess.”


	2. Chapter 2

Harry couldn’t help the mood he’d been in since his friends revelation. His emotions were all over the place, rapidly cycling through anger, elation, joy, and fear. His thoughts traveled through the years, decades, centuries. 

The princess?

How long had it been this time? Harry sat on the balcony overlooking the street below. It was predawn and the hustle and bustle of the city was slowly beginning to pick up steam. He watched a mule drawn cart pulling its wares down the street, it’s driver sang softly to the beast as it went. It was one of the things he’d grown to love about New Orleans, it’s people and characters were unlike anywhere else he’d been. It should have been no surprise that she was there also.

She always surprised them didn’t she? From her first incarnation through a half a dozen more.  After the last time though, well he was surprised the Fates would ever work in their favor again. It had been his fault they’d lost her that time. While others had been lost to age and disease  _she_ had been the victim of a monster. Him. His loss of control had cost their happiness. Gil had been devastated and rightly so. He'd feared his golden boy would leave him to the sands of time, lost and adrift.  Harry was eternally thankful for the bottomless well that was his lover’s forgiveness. Had he lost him as well he didn’t know what he’d have done. As if hearing his partners thoughts Gil slipped out onto the balcony.

”You’ve been out here all night.” The blonde noted quietly. Harry had seen the surprise in his eyes when he hadn’t responded favorably to his earlier announcement. Now, he was being cautious, leery of him. Harry hated it. He hated how his temperamental nature left his love nervous of his reactions. He’d never hurt his sweet bit of sunlight but, as he’d once been told, his actions reminded the man of his father’s abuse. While it was now ancient history the memories of the torment the bastard had caused would always remain fresh in Gil’s head, a wound that never sealed over. 

”Aye.” Harry answers quietly as Gil leaned against the balcony railing. He watched those soft, playful eyes scan the street below. “Ye...it was a surprise....what ye said.”

Gil nods sagely, “Imagine my surprise. I touched her, heard her voice, smelled her scent.” He closed his eyes, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as he seemed to remember the meeting, “but I froze. I said nothing” he turns his gaze on Harry and all the dark haired man can think of is pulling his dearest into a tender embrace. He looks lost and Harry doesn’t like seeing so much uncertainty in his eyes. His Gil should never feel pain or sorrow, those were emotions that only he should bear the burden of. 

”She didn’t recognize me.” He says quietly, “She’s never not recognized, or, at least been drawn to me.”

“It’s not her then.” Harry says pulling him into the shadows and wrapping his arms around him. Gil presses against him, seeking the comfort only his soulmate could provide. 

“It was her.” Gil says firmly, “you’d have known it too if you saw her. She’s just different this time.” Harry rests his forehead against the other man’s before pulling back and placing a gentle kiss where their heads had touched. Harry eyed him carefully. He would do anything for him, his best friend, love, and constant companion for near on 300 years.

”Harry, we’ve got to get it right this time.”

 The dark haired man sighed, it was a sound somewhere between exasperation and wistful. “I’m not even sure I fully believe the Gods have seen fit for our paths to cross again.” He rubs a hand over his face, scrubbing at his eyes. “And if it is her I don’t know if I have it in me for another go” he finishes quietly speaking a truth that terrified him.  

Harry leans into Gil’s touch as the blonde runs his hands through his shaggy hair leaving it rumpled and mussed. He freezes, caught in Gil’s assessing gaze. Every time he looked in his eyes it felt as if he was seeing all the way into his soul. Harry had once worried that Gil would shun him, reject him for the darkness that tinged his soul but he never had. Gil accepted him for all his flaws. He’d loved him in spite of them. It was much the way _she_ had.

That was the rub, wasn’t it? No matter how happy they were there was always _her_ in the background and the knowledge that they weren’t complete without her.

”You can’t hate yourself forever” Gil says softly, pulling Harry from his thoughts. Harry smiles wryly.

”I can certainly try.” 

Gil frowns at him but says nothing else, instead pulling him in for a slow kiss. Harry could feel the man pouring his heart and soul into it, as if that single kiss could convince him that all the evil and foul deeds he'd been part of in the last three centuries could be wiped clean from his slate.  Harry felt unworthy of such affection and devotion but he returned the kiss with his own fervor pulling the blonde back into their apartments and onto their bed. 

* * *

 Harry lay awake while Gil slept peacefully, his arm draped across Harry’s chest and a content smile decorating his cherubic features. Harry gently brushed a stray lock of golden hair from his face. He couldn’t get her out of his head. What name did she go by now? How had she come here? What was she doing? He wanted throttle the sleeping lad for dragging her back from the recesses of his mind to the forefront. He wished he could wipe her memory from his mind but she was a piece of him as much as Gil was and there was no changing that.

His eyes drifted shut and for the first time in decades he dreamed.

_”Harry...” her tone begs as his hands run over her pale skin. They’d found her weeks ago. Their sweet girl was with them once again! She went by Sophia in this new life. Her skin was still pale, her hair dark, and her eyes still full of spark and mischief. Everything was perfect. She recognized them from the moment she laid eyes on them, maybe not their names but that she was a part of something bigger, with them. The draw had been unmistakable and she'd never questioned the connection that pulled her to them. Harry was enjoying nothing more than being able to have both his Princess and his Golden Boy in his arms and his bed._

_Finally, they were going to be together. After over three hundred years she would join them in eternity. While Gil doted and adored the girl Harry had  wanted nothing more that to spend his time amusing and raining affection on his darling to the point his obsession had lead to him neglecting caring for himself, more specifically his need to feed, but he was nothing if not single-minded in his devotion. While Gil had larked off for a quick bite (after scolding his mate), Harry had denied himself._

_Now, as he nuzzled at her neck, feeling her pulse beat below his lips he regretted it. Her sweet scent, jasmine and lust, made his mouth water. Her soft whimpers clouded his mind. She was a mewling mess as he hovered over her, her naked body caged between his strong arms. When he pulled back he was pleased to see her eyes clouded with desire that mirrored his own. Her hand traces his jaw aa her thumb ran over his swollen bottom lip. She sighs as he draws it into his mouth. Her eyes widen as the digit bumps against a sharp incisor. He typically had solid control over his fangs but his hunger and his need were making things difficult. With her in his arms he had about as much control of his fangs dropping as any fledgling.  He tries to apologize but she places a silencing finger to his kiss swollen lips._

_”Does it hurt...” her voice is quiet and her eyes catch his, her expression curious and open. “I mean to be bitten?” Harry nearly groans aloud the thought being to much for him. She peers up at him awaiting an answer._

_”Yes and no” he explains. “The first moment stings, yes, but than it’s replaced with such a sensation that you’ve never known.” He strokes her face gently. There really was no explaining it. Feeding was not just a nutritive experience. It could also be incredibly intimate. Feeding from someone you loved could be better than sex and he knew with his dear girl it would be. They'd talked about it, the three of them, Sophia wanted to join them in eternity. She wanted to enter the night with them. It was only a matter of time before it happened. GIl had been clear that he didn't want her to rush into her decision though Harry knew her mind was clear._

_”Show me” She says quietly, demanding. The little vixen knew he could deny her nothing and was using it against him. He shook his head gently._

_"We're not ready for that, love." The words sound hollow even to him. A shiver travels up his spine as her hands trail from his face down his chest. Her nails lightly rake across his skin. "Sophia... please..." He whines quietly. When she speaks  he can hear the lust in her coloring her tone._

_"Come now, dear sweet vampire." she looks up at him with wide, doe eyes. "I want." She smirks as he growls low in his chest. "Just a little taste of what's to come?"_

_He doesn't respond to her in words but in actions instead. A little taste wouldn't hurt and it would quench his thirst until he was able to fill  his belly later. He kisses her once soft and reverent across her ruby lips before his mouth trails down to her neck. His lips caress the skin and he enjoys the sweet sounds she makes like their a song made specifically for him. The soft whimpers and moans cloud his judgement but still only a little nip, that's all he'd take from her. She wanted it. Wanted him. Who was he to deny her? His lips curl back exposing the ivory fangs. They slide over her pale skin until they find the rapid, excited pulse at the juncture of her neck and collar bone. He can feel her still, her body rigid with anticipation as he moves quickly. The teeth break the skin and she calls out his names quietly._

_The first drops of sweet nectar hit his tongue and he is all but lost. Her blood is wine created just for him, a vintage that is more perfect than he ever new possible. His arms wrap around her pulling her body close as she moans softly. Her body is supple and pliable in his arms. He takes another pull than another. She's perfect and she's his and the world is a wonderful and miraculous place. He hears his name soft and distant._

_"Harry..."_

_Harry can feel her hands push weakly against his chest. Without thought he bundles her wrists up in one large hand, pinning them to her body. She squirms in his grasp as she he takes in more and more of her. She repeats his name like a mantra. He can't wait to hear it, to taste her for eternity. He needs Gil to come home, needs him so they can make her theirs. He won't do it without him._

_Her body slowly stills in his grip and he begins to realize she's no longer calling his name. She's grown cool against him. He pulls back slowly, eyes widening in horror as he looks down into her glassy eyes. He drops her hands and grasps her face. "Sophia...." his voice is a whisper. He can no longer hear her heart, strong and steady, beating in her chest._

_"Sophia!" His voice grows stronger. Louder. He shakes her and still nothing. "No. No! NO!" His voice rises in pitch as he pulls her tight to his chest, rocking her back and forth like a small, sick child. Blood tears roll down his cheeks. Time passes yet he has no clue how long he sits holding and rocking the cold, dead girl in his arms._

_"Harry...?" Gil’s voice cuts through the fog like a knife, condemning and quiet. "What have you done?"_

 

**Author's Note:**

> For my dear friend, muse, an co-author!


End file.
